


Six of Pentacles

by liwellen



Series: Pound of Flesh [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liwellen/pseuds/liwellen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No,” you answered.</p><p>You knew what you had to do, and leaving him was never an option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six of Pentacles

You tried to ignore the sulking figure in the doorway as you redid your tie. You remained silent even as you put on the only cuff links you owned and checked your white dress shirt for creases. 

(Though you knew what you were wearing was better than anything you had owned all those years ago, you still felt like the same teenage boy underneath. Every brush of fabric across your skin seemed to whisper the word _imposter_.)

When your eyes flickered upward, you caught sight of him again, and the look on his face made it completely impossible for you to leave without saying anything to him. So your traitorous mouth shot itself to hell: “I don’t want to go either.”

Predictably, Ronan drawled, “Good, then don’t.”

You shot him a weary look in the mirror - you wished to avoid an argument about tonight’s dinner party if both of you could help it. Ronan was glum ever since you had told him that you needed to go, and you would have brought him along with you if he wasn’t, well, _Ronan_.

The truth was that you had been working at Goldman Corp for eight months now, and never did you spend more time than was necessary with your coworkers. Most days you were in Cabeswater during lunch, and when you finally got to call it a day, you were glad to drive straight back to the Barns. You had never put much thought about your routine, until you were called into your boss’s office last week. Cormac Vaughan had voiced his concern about cultivating good relationships in the office, and all you could heard was how it wasn’t enough that you were good at your job - you needed to be _more_. And if going to a stupid dinner party was going to nudge you in the direction of making partner someday, then so be it.

You turned to face Ronan. “It’s just a couple of hours,” you told him. It was an olive branch, and both of you knew it.

You tried not to smile when he finally pushed off the door frame and headed your way. He hit your chest lightly with his fist, and you caught it with your own hand. “Vaughan’s a dick,” he huffed, and you knew that it was the closest thing to a peace offering as it was going to get.

“I know,” you said. You reached to trace the grimace on his face with your other hand, and you tried to kiss it away. Softly. Gently.

“I’m serious,” he grunted when you pulled away. “He can su-” You kissed him again to shut him up. Thoroughly. Fervently.

His eyes were closed this time when the two of you broke apart, foreheads pressed together and panting heavily. When you finally caught your breath, you told him, “Don’t drink too much when I’m gone.” He snorted in response, and you knocked his forehead lightly with your own. “Don’t go racing either.”

His eyelids fluttered open at that. You watched his mouth as he spoke: “Can’t make promises that I can’t keep.”

“Don’t go racing when you’ve been drinking, then,” you corrected yourself.

He made a contemplative noise that was not an answer and closed the space to kiss you. Filthily. Intentionally.

“Try not to get yourself killed in one night.” You meant to be admonishing, but the last word got caught on a stuttered breath when he bit your neck and sucked lightly at the skin.

When he finally lifted his head to press his lips against yours once more, almost chastely, you heard him say, “It’s still early.” Three simple words, but you knew exactly what was going through his mind.

You knew you should step away, but your fingers were sliding under his shirt and tracing his hips instead. “I’m checking on the ley line before the party.”

His voice was light and casual when he asked, “I think they can wait a while, don’t you?” One might think that he was completely unaffected, but you knew otherwise. So you didn’t stop him when he moved to unbuckle your belt.

You let him push you against the wall, and you whispered, “Yeah.” A loaded answer to his question.

His hands were careful as he undid the buttons on your shirt, and you felt a surge of affection. As he removed every stitch on you, it felt like some kind of liberation. A smile tugged at your lips when you saw the smirk on his face, and you instinctively leaned forward to kiss him.

Everything else could wait.

 

* * *

 

“There he is,” you heard someone say when you entered the main room.

Vaughan was standing in the middle of a small group, waving you over. You nodded at him, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a waitress walking pass at the right time just to have something to do with your hands.

Slowly, you made your way to them, feeling as if there were roots curling around your feet to warn you off.

The urge to back away doubled when you saw Nash standing right next to Vaughan, looking short and stocky in his navy suit. “Parrish, I didn’t think you’d come,” he said. You tried not to show how much you hated the fact that Nash was considered your senior simply because he had joined the company right before you did, which made him think that he had the right to lord over you despite his incompetency.

Thankfully, Tessa saved you from the need to reply. “How was the drive, Adam? Traffic was pretty bad earlier.” The sympathetic look on her face told you she was aware that you had been covering half of Nash’s work on top of yours for the past month.

You returned her smile and said, “It was fine, thank you. The roads from Henrietta weren’t as busy.”

All three were surprised by what you said. Tessa asked, “You live in _Henrietta_?”

When you nodded, Nash’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’ve been driving to work from that far out all this while? Christ.”

Vaughan laughed and clapped you on the back. “See? This is great! We’re getting to know each other, aren’t we? I’ve only been to Henrietta once. What a place, am I right?”

Though there was no malice behind his words, you felt your face burn as you imagined them in their penthouses in the city.

“What a place indeed,” you heard Nash mumble into his drink.

The dark look Tessa shot his way was hard to miss. She turned to Vaughan and asked, “What brought you to Henrietta?”

“Oh.” Vaughan seemed pleased with the question. “It was my niece’s birthday, and she wanted to get a reading from a psychic of all things.” He shook his head and laughed like it was the most amusing thing that had ever happened in his life.

You heard yourself ask, “At 300 Fox Way?”

Vaughan practically lit up. “That’s the place! Do you know it?”

You kept your voice even as you answered, “My friend lives there. She’s the psychic’s daughter.” It felt strange to reduce Blue to those few words when she was so much larger than life.

Nash turned sly at that. “Friend, huh? What is she, really? Girlfriend? Old flame?”

You stared at him coolly and did not answer, willing him to let it go. Unfortunately, Nash had piqued the others’ interest.

Vaughan asked, “You’ve got a lady waiting back home, son?”  

Tessa delightfully added, “Is that so? You've never told us, Adam!”

“Come to think of it” - Nash was grinning now - “you’ve been leaving for home earlier these days. Has the lady been complaining? Women, am I right?”

You wished Blue were here to claw the smug look off of Nash's face. But you were on your own, so you cleared your throat instead, and said, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” And before they could say anything else, you asked for courage, and held your breath as you added, “I have a boyfriend.”

You saw the way their faces fell, and the air turned awkward and stifling. You pretended not to notice the way they were averting their eyes, and you excused yourself. Another waiter wandered pass and you returned the glass of champagne.

It was time to go home.

 

* * *

 

You found yourself leaning against your car at 300 Fox Way two months later. Night had fallen, and you knew Ronan would be out looking for you soon. You should have been back at the Barns by now, but instead, you were staring at the door.

You were so close to being the boy at the psychic’s for the very first time once again.

You weren’t surprised when Blue walked out. She did not say anything as she stood beside you, and neither did you because you didn’t feel like speaking.

When time seemed to have dragged on long enough, she finally said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you answered back.

“So.” She drew out the word. “What are you doing out here?”

You were quiet for a long time before you answered, “Thinking.”

“About what?”

You turned away from the door and looked at her sadly, “About whether I need to go in.”

Blue nodded as if she understood. Maybe she did.

After a while, she told you, “Ronan called. I think he’s worried.” Then she let out a small laugh. “In his own way, anyway.”

You knew she was expecting some kind of response, but all you could do was turn back to stare at the front door again. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you wondered just how much more you were able to take.

“Adam” - her voice was laced with worry now - “what’s wrong?”

For a long time, you couldn’t make yourself tell her. But she waited patiently, until you finally could.

You said, “I got turned down for a raise.” And before she could berate you for being so torn up over something like this, you made yourself take in a shaky breath and choke out the worst part: “Vaughan gave it to Nash.”

Saying the words out loud made you feel as if you were gutted for a second time. You felt your ten-year plan slip out of your hands, knowing that you would never make partner if you couldn’t even get a raise that you deserved. It didn’t matter that you were fucking good at your job, and it didn’t matter that you were the one who did most of Nash’s work which he took credit for. You would never make partner when your boss couldn’t even look you in the eye anymore.

Word got around that you were bi, and you had underestimated its effect. Unfortunately, Cabeswater and Glendower had distorted your expectations of reality. After all, you had encountered dead kings and trees that spoke. You'd figured that there were bigger things in life than your sexuality, but the way everything you had worked so hard for was turning to dust seemed to prove otherwise.

You could cry. You could lash out. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Something more dangerous manifested instead - doubt.

“What an asshole!” Blue threw her arms in the air, knowing your work life well enough by now to decipher what you just said. “Oh, Adam. I swear I just - I could kill them!”

You shook your head. And as comforted as you were by how indignant she felt on your behalf, anger wasn’t what you needed right now.

That realization was strange and sudden. You knew that the boy from all those years ago would have been furious. That Adam Parrish would have chosen his ambition over and over again, because it was the only way he knew to make something of himself and to be his own person - that was all he wanted. All he had  _ever_ wanted.

But Ronan Lynch happened.

“Adam.” Blue’s voice was soft this time. “Do you still want to come in?”

You thought about the way Ronan fought but still came home whenever the two of you took your anger out on each other. You remembered the way he traced your jaw and unclenched your fists when he knew you were taking your anger out on yourself instead. You thought of the way he laughed as he raced you on the steep slopes near the Barns, the way his lips turned red and lightly swollen after kissing you, the way he looked as he pulled you flush against him, the way he would hide his genuine smile by turning away...

“No,” you answered. That Adam Parrish was gone. Ronan was now in your veins - though if asked when that happened, there wasn’t a date to mark the occasion.

You knew what you had to do, and leaving him was never an option.

“I’m going home,” you told her.

Then you got into your car, ignoring how your sudden intensity had left her bewildered. 

One day, you would try to explain how every inch of your doubt had burnt away, but for now, you were driving toward what meant most to you.        

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to write this, but I had an idea and I figured that if I was going to run with it, I had to name it after a tarot card. It felt like a sign when I got the right card on the first try with my limited knowledge on the subject.
> 
> Six of Pentacles: A card that indicates your identification with material wants and needs may be out of balance with who you really are, whether your needs are being met and what you really want anyway. This card reveals that what you thought you wanted was not necessarily best for you. Success and failure are arbitrary and capricious; the appearance of balance is an illusion. (Source: KEEN.com)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://yourladysansa.tumblr.com).


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